


Audible

by etacanis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: hh_sugarquill, Founders fic, M/M, Muggles, Romance, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-28
Updated: 2012-03-28
Packaged: 2017-11-02 15:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etacanis/pseuds/etacanis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Godric wakes up with somebody laying on his arm and silence in his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Audible

Godric wakes up with somebody laying on his arm and silence in his head. For a moment, he lets his eyes slide shut again, luxuriates in the warmth radiating off the man beside him until it hits him.

 _Silence_. No buzzing, no snippets of words or thoughts, no half formed ideas that don't belong to him. _Silence_.

He considers panicking, he feels his calves tense and his stomach lurch and he takes a deep breath, reaches out and searches for Helga and she's _there_ , just in the periphery of his mind, just waking up and thinking about how much she'd like a cup of tea, her thoughts tinged with a hint of a dream about a cat, and another about sharks swimming through the sky.

He breathes, relaxes, it's still _there_ , he's still _him_ but that doesn't tell him why he can't hear anything from the man beside him. He rolls onto his side, takes in the dark hair that's almost curling, the perfectly straight nose. He stretches, rests the tips of his fingers against an arm and _listens_.

Nothing, complete silence. No white noise, no humming or ringing or even a barely there hint of a dream. _Nothing_.

He frowns, and rolls out of the bed, stares down at the man and his impeccable shoulders and wishes he could remember if he'd noticed last night. He doesn't remember much, a clutch and a kiss, sweating and quite possibly the best blowjob ever.

He doesn't remember realizing he couldn't hear a word the man was thinking.

The man shifts, murmurs something in his sleep and tucks his hand under the pillows, but he doesn't wake up. Godric closes the door quietly behind him, and tries to keep the noise down as he makes tea.

The silence is unnerving. For the first time in a while, he makes less of an effort not to listen to Helga.

When he goes back to his bedroom, the man is awake, propped up against the headboard and rubbing at his face.

"Good morning," he says, voice thick with sleep. There's no matching voice in Godric's head, no echo of the sentiment or vague worry. "I can't remember your name," he says.

"Godric." He wishes he could hear him, at least to figure out _his_ name. "I made you tea."

"I'm Salazar." The covers ruch up around his hips and he holds the mugs in both hands, breathes out steadily over it and takes a long sip.

"Nice to meet you," Godric says, and doesn't mention not being able to hear his thoughts. "There's some paracetamol in the bathroom if you need it."

"I'm fine," Salazar says, and shifts to the side to let Godric back into bed. Godric's feet catch against Salazar's calves, and there's a hint of a smile, almost a laugh, like he's ticklish. He drinks his tea in long sips, and raises an eyebrow when Godric murmurs random things under his breath.

Godric stops listening to Helga, blocks out the jumble of thoughts; the shopping list, the magazine that's sitting on the counter and how the model is _too skinny_ , the fact she needs to call Ro and oh, the neighbour hasn't shut her curtains again.

He focuses on Salazar's steady breath instead, on the inhale and the exhale and the sigh after a particularly long sip.

The curtains aren't quite closed, and Salazar's skin is dappled in morning light and with something else to focus on, it's nice to only hear the words Salazar is saying.

\---

Godric walks with Salazar to the bus stop. Salazar is quiet, but not strangely so, a constant presence to balance on Godric's rambling, to absorb his opinions on everything and nothing.

"So, what do you do?" Godric asks, and Salazar shrugs, like he doesn't know.

"Nothing interesting," he says. He glances at Godric, and there's that half smile again, and a sigh. "I'm a banker."

Godric laughs, long and loud. He tries to bite his lip, tries not to let out the burst of laughter, but Salazar looks like he expects it, almost.

"What about you?" Salazar says, when Godric manages to reign it in.

"I work in a bar." Salazar nods, and he goes to say something, but the bus is pulling up, it's doors already opening. He settles at the back of the queue, behind an old woman and a gaggle of teenagers and says nothing, just tucks his hands in his pockets and shuffles forward with the queue.

When he gets on the bus, Godric is already turning away, a quick wave over his shoulder, when he _hears_ it, Salazar's voice in his head, that tinge of a posh accent shaping his r's.

"You should call me." There's a pause, a moment where Salazar's attention is caught somewhere else. "I put my number in your phone."

Godric pauses. He watches the bus drive past, catches a flash of Salazar's dark hair from the corner of his eye as he checks his phone, and sure enough, there it is, a new contact sandwiched between Rowena and Sam.

\---

Godric meets Salazar at a 24-hour diner, one with jukeboxes on the table and milkshakes with cherries on top, the kind of place that lets unassuming British teenagers relive the glory days of a culture that's not their own.

Or, at least, that's what Rowena says whenever they go. Godric just likes the fact he can get pancakes _and_ a hamburger at any time of the day.

"So, you can block me out," Godric says, as Salazar slides into the booth with a bottle of coke. "Interesting."

"Habit," Salazar says, and steals the cherry from the top of Godric's milkshake and doesn't even bother to look ashamed about it. "I could feel you trying to hear me."

"Habit," Godric mimics. "I've never met anyone who could block me out. It was weird."

"You're only the second person who could hear my thoughts." He traces his finger down the edge of the menu, past burgers and cheese fries and chilli and brownies. "It was weird."

"You're weird," Godric says. Salazar looks up at him, with a smirk on his face, and doesn't seem at all surprised when Godric leans across the table to kiss him.

When Godric pulls back, he can hear snippets of Salazar's thoughts, a line of a song on never ending repeat, a hazy focus on Godric's chapped lips and the taste of vanilla lingering.

"You only have to ask," Salazar says, and nudges his feet against Godric's. He doesn't say "but that way _is_ funner", but Godric hears it anyway.

\---

It takes two months before Salazar officially meets Helga, in more than a quick good morning as he leaves the flat kind of way. She knows his name and he knows hers. She knows he drinks her tea and he knows she sings in the shower.

Godric watches as Salazar stands by the kitchen window, looking out over the city, a mug of tea in his hands.

"Why him?" Helga asks, her hand resting on Godric's elbow. "He's the opposite to you."

"It's quiet, most of the time," Godric says. "And he's a good shag, and he's smart, and kind of funny."

"Are you boyfriends?" Salazar looks across the hallway to them, a flash of a thought that Godric barely catches before he's back to the white noise of blocking out Helga.

"I don't think so," Godric says. "We're something."

"Are you happy?" Godric smiles, because that's _such_ a Helga question, the thing she thinks most essential to everybody's lives. He glances back at Salazar, who's set his mug on the counter and propped the window open so he can lean out into the rare English sunshine.

"I guess." Salazar calls to someone outside. "Yeah, I am."

Helga smiles, and goes to put the kettle on again.

\---

They argue, in fits of anger and shouts from Godric and silence, so much fucking _silence_ from Salazar. He closes himself off and keeps his face blank while Godric slams doors and yells insults.

Godric blames Salazar, for keeping him out. Salazar blames Godric, for being so reliant on knowing everyone's business.

Godric maintains he doesn't know everyone's business, that he tries to block everyone out. Salazar maintains that he does know everyone's business, and he only respects Helga's privacy.

Helga doesn't take sides, and points out that Godric does favour being nosy instead of _talking_ and that Salazar doesn't quite understand his side of things.

She never asks when Salazar moved in with them, and she's always happy to get the biscuits out after they make up.

She only loses her temper with them once, and locks them both out of the flat for three days. They get let back in when they send her two separate bouquets of flowers.

They're still not boyfriends.

\---

When Helga gets together with Rowena (finally, _finally_ ), they go on a double date. They go on two, even, but the second is the last one because Godric drinks too much and stops blocking people out and suddenly all he can hear is the two women he sees like his extra sisters thinking about sex with each other and he nearly cries.

Helga teases him about it, points out how often she has to listen to him and Salazar having sex, and Rowena and Salazar just _laugh_.

It's one of those days when Godric values Salazar's private nature more.

\---

Godric wakes up with somebody laying on his arm and silence in his head. For a moment, he lets his eyes slide shut again, luxuriates in the warmth radiating off the man beside him until it hits him.

 _Silence_. No buzzing, no snippets of words or thoughts, no half formed ideas that don't belong to him. _Silence_.

Salazar wakes up with a sharp intake of breath. He stretches, pulling his already long body even further across the bed, and kicks at the blankets around his feet.

"Good morning," he murmurs, curling into Godric. He speaks with a flash of a dream that's already being forgotten, bright colours and sharp sensations that so strongly contrast the fuzzy softness of Helga's dreams, the ones that always sit in the back of Godric's mind when he's Sunday morning relaxed like this. Rowena's there too today, sharp like Salazar, but filled with thoughts of flying. "You should make me some tea."

"Do you think we're boyfriends?" Godric asks, pressing the tips of his fingers to Salazar's bicep. He feels Salazar shrug against him, feels the movement of his jaw against his shoulder as he finds the words he wants.

"I suppose so," he says. "If you'd like."

Godric doesn't need to let Salazar know what he thinks, even if the noise doesn't work both ways.  



End file.
